duyong

I was born in the 1980s, and officially stepped into the world of Feng Shui in 2006. Over the past decade, I’ve witnessed mysteries that most would never believe.

In 2013, over 100,000 fish died mysteriously in Liaozhong Reservoir…
In Tower Bay Street, spirits marched in a ghostly parade…
In Wenguantun, shadowy markets rose at dusk…
And in front of the Shenyang Imperial Palace, a ghostly princess once sat in her palanquin.

Were these the workings of nature — or something far more ancient and unseen?

In ten years, I’ve saved lives — and yes, I’ve ruined some too. Feng Shui is like a blade: it bears no evil or virtue. The darkness lies in the hearts of men.

This book is not written to boast about my mastery or to chase after the sensational. I write to share a truth:

Feng Shui can nurture life — or destroy it. There is no good or evil in the art itself. Only in the human heart.

Tales of Folk Feng Shui Mysteries

My first shout triggered no response, but by the third, the temperature in the Ma family courtyard dropped abruptly. Frost seeped from the wellmouth, wisps of white mist rising like boiling water, silencing the chattering villagers.

Ma Li retched and tried to flee, but I grabbed him. "Shout your wife's name—loudly!"

"Master... I'm scared." His face contorted.

"With me here, what's to fear? Now!" I glared. "Fail to summon her, and she'll haunt you for life—you'll never remarry."

This threat worked. The oaf bellowed toward the well like a slaughtered pig: "Han Xiaocui... Wife!"

The well's frost was yin qi; souls are yin, never appearing in heat. But the mist was too thin. With my Divine Eye, I sensed Han Xiaocui's aura below, but Ma Li's shouts lacked power.

Human souls retain memories, unlike mindless evil spirits. Like deceased elders visiting during Ghost Festival, they act from memory, not blind hatred.

"Your shouting isn't working," I whispered. "Stimulate her—mention what she hated, loved, or made her angry."

"Secrets that would enrage her—she can hear."

Bound by the talisman and blood bond, they needed a strong trigger. Ma Li hesitated: "My secrets will shame me! How can I remarry?"

I bared his chest: "Your heart blood connects you. Either pull her back or join her in the well!"

Terrified, he wailed: "Wife, I'm sorry for hiding money from you!"

Fog thickened at the well. "More!" I urged.

"She'll strangle me—promise to save me!" After my oath, he croaked: "Last March, I lied about hitting someone with my tricycle. I took 3,000 yuan to gamble and lost. When I said I sold meat with Er Gou, we went whoring instead."

"Dammit, Ma Li!" Er Gou lunged, but the chief held him back. Frost now caked the well—impossible in September.

Ma Li rambled: "I met a girl on QQ last month, traveled to Fuxin to meet her. She was uglier than you, but I slept with her anyway. And about your infertility—I got checked. I'm fine, so the problem's yours. Dad said we'd divorce if you couldn't conceive this year."

The crowd gasped. Ma Li was possessed—his words spilled unconsciously as frost crept toward him.

Chapter 50: Burning the Corpse (1/2)